


Poison

by ohunshines



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Suicide Attempt, M/M, i hope I'm doing this right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohunshines/pseuds/ohunshines
Summary: Kim Jongin is a successful man. He has money, power, and almost anything a man could ever dream of at his fingertips. He lives in a too big house, and sleeps in a too big room. When the nights get too hard, he results to the slow burn of a cancer stick and liquid fire that slides down his throat. When life finally gets too much there is one place, one person, he can turn to for a solution.A permanent one.





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there's a playlist: 8tracks.com/hunshines/poison
> 
> This took 2 years to write, so enjoy the emo :)) (Crossposted from AFF)

Jongin knows what sleepless nights tastes like. He knows what too much bitter coffee feels like. He knows what being alone at 3 AM in the office sounds likes. He knows what the rustle of papers and the thump of a heavy weight being dropped on his desk means.

Jongin knows a lot of things about things unrelated to work as well, like how to fight the monsters that lurk in his brain and the voices that inject poison into his thoughts.

Nights where silence fills the room and black words on white pages bleed together are normal for him. So are the nights where he battles with sleep that wants to take over and the weight of fatigue on his body.

It’s 2 AM.

His secretary is gone and the only people left in the building are the security guards. The blinds are already pulled down but Jongin can see the slivers of yellow light from the streetlamps outside. He puts on his coat and pulls all the important papers he needs to look over into his briefcase. Usually, he would call his driver to take him home but Chanyeol is on leave since his wife is pregnant. Jongin should probably send them a gift.

He leaves his office, locking it and taking his private elevator to the ground floor. His eyelids are heavy, wanting nothing more than to drop and submerge him in darkness and sleep. He can do that when he gets home.

The drive home is silent. There are few cars driving around on the street at that time of night so the drive home is quick. He turns the corner into the apartment complex he owns and leaves his car with the security guard. He stands alone in the too big elevator to ride up to his penthouse.

Unlike the CEOs in dramas, Jongin doesn’t have a family at home waiting for him. There is no caring wife and no son to take over his company. Jongin doesn’t need all that. After all, he’s still in the prime of his youth, the young age of 26. He’s still got an entire life in front of him and everything he needs to make the most of his remaining years.

Except his life is ending in a mere eight months.

And Jongin supposes he doesn’t really need a family waiting for him at home when there’s Sehun.

Jongin’s barely pressed two digits of the passcode in when the door swings open and the large, familiar figure of Sehun is towering over him with expectant eyes.

“You’re home.”

“You waited.”

“I always do.”

Jongin drops his briefcase on the floor, it landing with a clunk on the doormat, and loosens his tie as Sehun pulls him in for a breathtaking kiss. The door clicks shut behind them and Sehun’s hand slips between them to fiddle with the buttons on Jongin’s dress shirt.

Jongin pulls away for a brief moment to catch his breath and mumble, “Bedroom.”

Sehun’s eyes grow dark and Jongin pulls him back in for another kiss.

Jongin supposes this is enough. For a few moments, he can forget about the life he lives and will leave.

 

“Do you have work later?” Sehun’s soft voice whispers. The bridge of his nose ghosts over Jongin’s neck.

“No. It’s Sunday.”

Sehun makes a content noise and his arms tighten around Jongin’s body. “Let’s stay like this for a while. It‘s nice.”

Jongin stares up at the ceiling. He can tell when Sehun falls asleep from the steady puffs of warm breath that fan across his neck. He is tired and fatigue from his entire day is beginning to sink back in. But with Sehun’s arm across his chest and pulled so close, Jongin can’t sleep.

It reminds him of loneliness, no matter how ironic that is.

It reminds him of how close someone can get and how it just takes one moment for it all to end.

 

\--

 

Jongin is a workaholic, in simple terms. He buries himself in his work, not stopping even when he’s on the brink of passing out and his phone is vibrating with Sehun’s phone calls. It’s not that he loves work. He hates it, in fact. But it’s a distraction. This tactic starts working best at 1 AM when all the words blend together and he can no longer differentiate one page from the next.

Jongin is a liar, to be blunt. The words slip easily from his lips. He says things others want to hear, to please them. He says things Sehun never wants to hear so he doesn’t get attached.

He has justification for everything he does.

He hurts so he can forget.

He causes pain so he’s not alone.

 

Sehun was given a task. Ten months to be a companion to a broken CEO with too much money to burn.

He has eight left. Then, everything will end. The contract tucked into the back pocket of the pair of jeans he wore the first day they met details everything.

 

\--

 

Jongin wakes to Sehun’s lips on his. It takes him a second to realize that he is not at his desk at work, where he usually wakes up on work nights, but in his bed with Sehun on top of him.

“Good morning,” he mumbles.

Sehun beams, smile as radiant as the sun and that makes Jongin’s heart almost skip a beat. Sehun’s grin is still plastered on his face as he rolls off Jongin’s body to let the older sit up. It morphs into a smaller, content smile as he watches Jongin with adoration in his eyes.

Jongin’s hair is messy and he’s still shirtless. Sehun comes to the rescue, as always, and hands him a hoodie. Jongin accepts it and slips it over his head. His mind is fuzzy, each part of his brain running in completely different directions.

“I made breakfast,” Sehun voices. “Omelettes.”

Jongin hums in appreciation, eyes closed as he strokes Sehun’s hair. He doesn’t care much for breakfast. Usually a cup of coffee, one part sugar, one part cream, is good enough to keep him going until noon.

“I’ll bring it up?” Sehun asks.

Jongin shakes his head. “I’ll come down.” He leans over and presses a soft kiss on Sehun’s forehead. “After a shower.”

Sehun smiles that blinding smile again, one bright and warm enough to power the penthouse complex for the next decade. Yet Jongin feels nothing stir in his ribcage. He doesn’t spare Sehun a glance as he makes his way out of the room.

Sehun’s smile falters for a split second, a small shift that would have gone unnoticed, before plastering on that radiant smile. He supposes it’s not easy to make someone feel loved when they don’t know what the definition of the word is. But his orders were clear. It had to be done. In the end, it wouldn’t matter anyway. At least, it shouldn’t. Kim Jongin would be just another face, another being that will be no more than a fleeting memory. But it hurts. Sehun gives his everything in hopes of getting a piece in return. He gives his love, his heart, his body to a man that doesn’t know what to do with it all. He gives his everything to a man who throws it all away in a heartbeat. What does he do then?

 

How do you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?

How do you love someone who doesn’t know what love is?

How do you live when there’s nothing to live for?

 

\--

 

Jongin feels Sehun’s fingers in his hair, scratching softly at his scalp, gentle as they stroke black locks between his fingers. Sehun’s chest is sturdy and comforting against his back. He keeps him grounded when all Jongin wants is to fly away. He keeps him warm when all Jongin feels is cold. His eyes are closed, shrouded in darkness. Between thin fingers is a glass of wine that tints his lips red.

The blinds are shut, curtains pulled down. There is nothing but the sound of breathing and Jongin feels at ease like this. A few seconds of silence, of quiet, where no thoughts invade his skull.

Sehun is his best distraction.

“Awake?” Sehun whispers.

Jongin opens his eyes as his answer. Another sip of wine. Sehun kisses him softly, licking at his lower lip to wash away the remnants of the drink. Jongin wishes his troubles could all be washed away so easily.

“Jongin.”

Reality’s a bitch.

“When will you kiss me like you mean it?”

Jongin thinks Sehun’s alcohol tolerance is pretty low if he’s spewing nonsense just from a drop of alcohol.

“What do you mean?”

“When will you put your everything into us?”

Jongin now knows Sehun’s alcohol tolerance is really low.

“Us?”

“Us.”

“There is no us.”

Jongin knows the words pierce and tear and break and destroy. It doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Don’t be silly, Sehun. Don’t delude yourself into thinking there’ll ever be an us.” Sehun is no longer warm. He’s scalding, burning. A reminder that nice things always hurt. Sehun is no longer soft scratching at his scalp and gentle fingers in his hair. He’s ripping skin and pulling hard.

 

Jongin supposes he’s in too deep to go back now. The alcohol burns, smoke fills his nostrils and making his head go fuzzy, the pills are kicking in. One voice, one face, one name.

Sehun.

 

\--

 

Work is drowning him.

Sign this, sign that, meeting at 1, another at 4.

Jongin knows this is why he wanted it in the first place. Why is Sehun such a an integral part of his life? Sehun is the answer to all his pain. Sehun is the one that does all the fixing to Jongin’s breaking. Sehun is patient enough to wait for the sun when Jongin wants to chase the moon to catch the rays of light that keep him safe from the shadows. Sehun saves him from the darkness.

But attachment will always end in pain. It’s ripping off a band aid. It’s pulling an IV out of your wrist. It’s suddenly being dropped after holding on too tight.

Even if he put Sehun up for it, it still won’t matter. In the end, Sehun will move on. In the end, Jongin will be no one but the CEO who died of a drug overdose.

 

Sehun runs his hands along Jongin’s sides. Soft kisses at his neck keeps him awake. Sehun’s chest is heaving. Arousal is thick in the air but none of them want to start. Jongin’s arms wrap around Sehun’s neck, pulling closer. Sehun presses sloppy kisses to Jongin’s lips, a mix of teeth and saliva. Nothing but hunger. His hands roam, one pulling softly on Jongin’s hair while the other one strokes skin. Jongin is content with having Sehun all over him, content with being kissed until he can’t remember anything but the blissed out feeling Sehun provides.

Their nights aren’t lonely since Jongin has Sehun and Sehun has Jongin and they have each other. Jongin opens his heart and lets Sehun in. Sehun falls into the dark abyss that is Jongin willingly.

But when day breaks and the alarm goes off, Jongin is back to being closed up and guarded. No matter how hard he tries, the wall is impenetrable and the treasure Sehun had has been taken away yet again.

For now, though, things will be okay. Jongin is open and ready for him to love. Jongin can’t hide anything from him. Sehun knows that much. And for now, that’s enough time for him to try make Jongin see that darkness doesn’t always have to take over.

 

There is a certain bottle of pills Jongin has with him all the time. There’s one in his car, one in the bathroom, one in the nightstand, one in the kitchen, one in his desk at work and at home, and a single use capsule in his breast pocket. Whenever Sehun isn’t with him and he doesn’t want to think about life and the inevitability of death, and _when the voices get too loud and the darkness rips him to shreds_ , the pills are used to ease the pain. There are others as well, similar in use, though he doesn’t depend on those as much.

Sometimes, Jongin depends on them too much.

The daily dose is to not surpass four pills.

Sometimes, Jongin goes over.

_The pain just fades. Everything is black. Comfortable...like Sehun’s arms._

 

\--

 

Another month rolls by lazily, like the rare days Jongin spends in Sehun’s embrace. Both have made no process in their own endeavors, but both are closer to the inevitable. Sehun falls deeper in what he hopes is his role. Jongin drowns in the work, the stress, the uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

For Sehun, he likes seeing Jongin come home and fall into his arms. Likes the feeling of Jongin pressed close. Likes it when Jongin’s heart is open for Sehun to love — or what he hopes is enough for Jongin to hang on.

Sehun drops down a lifeline, wishing that Jongin would just reach out to grab it. Sehun exposes everything, gives everything, offers everything for Jongin, for this job.  
But maybe it’s not just a job anymore.

For Jongin, he wants nothing more than to focus on the tasks at hand, on his desk, printed onto stacks of paper, and typed digitally. He wants to lose himself in meaningless words. He wants to fall, deep, into the mundane life of a CEO of a multi-million dollar company that will continue its legacy without him.  
But something is off. Sehun’s eyes are more intense. Sehun’s arms are more warm. Sehun’s heart beats in a rhythm Jongin wants to hear for the rest of his life. The feeling of Sehun on him, hugging him, breathing on his skin, loving him is overwhelming. There is a connection somewhere between the loss of interest in his work and the sudden interest in that man at home.

It’s a connection Jongin wants to destroy. There shouldn’t be a connection in the first place.

He breaks the single capsule in his breast pocket and then takes out the bottle in his desk.

Darkness.

 

“The pills. He overdosed.”

Sehun’s heart stops for a moment and his world becomes blurry. His mind screams ten thousand things at once. _He’s not ok. He needs you. Go, go, go!_ But there’s the tiny voice in the corner that’s sharp and bitter, _He’s nothing. You’re nothing to him._

Sehun’s eyes refocus. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says into the phone. The beep of the dial tone ends the call. The inside of his cheek is chewed through and his palms are drenched in sweat. “Should I even go?” he whispers to the air.

_Yes._

 

He regrets it, the moment he opens his eyes. Jongin groans, the light too bright for the darkness he’s been in for the past who knows how long. Everything is heavy and it takes too much effort to lift his hand up to cover his eyes from the brightness that makes its way through his eyelids. He feels fragile, like a cracked vase that stands precariously at the edge of a table; a false move and everything comes tumbling down to the point of no return.

“Jongin.”

Jongin opens his eyes.

“Oh, Jongin, you’re awake.”

Sehun sounds so relieved, as if all the weight on his shoulders has been alleviated. He offers Jongin a soft smile, eyes filled with some sort of hope that Jongin will register his pain. Sehun’s thumb rubs comforting circles on the back of Jongin’s cold hands.

“You’ll be okay now,” Sehun whispers as Jongin lets his eyes close. “Please don’t let go just yet, Jongin.”

Jongin feels the corner of his lip twitch once before he lets the exhaustion take over once more. He supposes he should uphold his side of the promise for a few more months.

The voices in his head try to persuade him otherwise.

 

Sehun carries Jongin from the car back into their home. Jongin is still lethargic but he has enough energy in him to pull Sehun back when he lays him down on their bed.

“Stay,” he says softly.

Sehun stills, heart thudding against its cage. He allows himself a smile and settles down beside Jongin, who clutches him close like he’s the only thing holding him down. Like he might drift away if Sehun doesn’t anchor him to the ground.

“Stroke my hair. I want to feel you.” His voice is breathy, as if talking takes too much energy.

Sehun’s warm fingers find purchase on Jongin’s thin locks. He strokes languidly, holding and feeling each individual hair because they made up Jongin. Sehun rests his arm on the space beside Jongin’s head and presses his cheek against his arm. Their faces are mere centimeters apart but Jongin has never felt so far away.

“Sing for me, Sehun.”

Sehun’s eyelids flutter open. He didn’t even realize that he had drifted off. “Anything for you, Jongin.”

Jongin lets Sehun’s low timbre lull him into a sense of comfort. Lets Sehun’s light drive away the shadows for a while. Lets himself fall deeper into something other than the dull pain of smoking too much and drinking to forget and overdosing on drugs so he doesn’t have to feel. The stiffness in his limbs is assuaged by Sehun’s wonderful voice melting all of that pain away so he. Can. Feel. Nothing.

 

\--

 

Sehun’s kisses intoxicate him better than any shot of hard liquor he takes down. But that same blissed out feeling Sehun gives him is also sometimes the worst feeling in the world. When Sehun’s tears drip down his cheeks and cling onto his dainty eyelashes, yet Jongin pushes further, indulges himself some more. When the both of them know the boundaries have long been crossed, yet their impulses tell them otherwise. When their hearts tell them that this is right but their minds tell them anything but. When they’re nothing but two frail souls holding onto a sliver of hope that their lives will turn out fine after the storm that is bound to hit.

 

\--

 

When he hears the beeping of the code being punched into the lock, Sehun flicks off the television and rushes to the door. The reporter’s words still linger in his mind, the picture of Jongin that looks so similar to the one he set out for his funeral stained into his eyes. The real Jongin looks up at him with tired eyes, cigarette hanging from his lips though it’s unlit.

“Can you take me tonight?”

Sehun’s eyes widen a fraction as he takes hold of Jongin’s tie. The cigarette is pulled from between the same chapped lips that Sehun kisses with so much hunger he surprises himself. Jongin grabs at his shirt, fingers travelling the expanse of skin that he’ll soon feel on top of him. Sehun pulls away, hand still holding Jongin’s nape so they can’t move further away from each other than they currently are.

“Whatever you want, Jongin.”

 

Jongin is half a year closer to sleeping for eternity.

Sehun is half a year closer to finishing up this draining mission and moving on.

They’re both half a year closer to parting ways.

 

Jongin is half a year closer to leaving Sehun for life.

Sehun is half a year closer to letting a broken man fall between his fingers like sand.

They’re both half a year closer to losing what could have been.

 

\--

 

“When will you be home today?”

Jongin runs his hand through his hair tiredly. Blinking the tiredness out of his eyes, he skims through a file and circles the blatant errors that should have been caught as they went through all the managers before him. “Late.”

“It’s already late.” Sehun’s giggle is like the tinkling of windchimes. “Will you eat when you come home?”

“Not sure,” Jongin replies curtly. He looks up, through the windows of his office, and finds that there are only a few employees left in the office. “Maybe.”  
“That’s great! I’ll make dinner for you.”

“Don’t bother. It’ll get cold.”

“We can always warm it up.”

Sehun sounds so genuine, so real, _so loving_ , that Jongin finds himself freezing halfway through opening another file on his computer.

“Jongin?”

“I’ll come home now,” he whispers.

“Oh, I didn’t start cooking yet!” Sehun protests.

Jongin can hear the happiness in Sehun’s voice and it _hurts. Hurts so fucking bad._

The single use capsule is pressed against his heart.

 

Jongin doesn’t know when Sehun’s smile began to tug at his heartstrings. He doesn’t know when calling at eight became their thing. He doesn’t know when Sehun’s embrace at the door made him feel more than the urge to take it to bed. He’s too busy to bother about those trivial things, yet he can’t help but think of how Sehun always makes breakfast for him and makes sure that he eats his meals. Jongin doesn’t understand why he can’t gloss over these stupid thoughts like he always has and erase them with drugs, alcohol, and nicotine.

Why does Sehun’s presence suddenly feel like more than just a distraction?

 

Dinner is quiet, but it’s full of warmth. Sehun’s hand is on Jongin’s left hand the entire time, holding, caressing, feeling. Jongin quite likes the feeling on Sehun’s skin against his, even when it’s not meant to be intimate. The attachment to something physical makes him feel better about the lurking voices. Jongin thinks he’ll give Sehun a big tip when it’s all over. Maybe it’ll be enough for Sehun to never do something like this again. Maybe Jongin will be the last person he sleeps with. Maybe Jongin will be too much of a good memory to forget.

A man can hope right?

 

Jongin falls asleep before Sehun does that night. Jongin’s back is to him, but their bare legs are tangled together and Sehun’s arm is slung across the older’s waist. Even though their minds are oceans apart, they are together. This will suffice for now. Sehun traces patterns using the moles on Jongin’s back, connecting them like they were stars making up a constellation. Jongin was the universe and Sehun wanted to paint him to keep their memories concrete.

Sehun lets out a shaky breath, eyelids fluttering closed with his hand still pressed against Jongin’s back. If only the universe weren’t so cruel. Maybe, just maybe, Sehun wouldn’t have to pretend that the tears the slip down his cheeks were because of overwhelming pleasure. Maybe Jongin could finally know how much it hurt to see the one you love try to fade into black and white until they were nothing but dust.

Sehun regrets, and regrets some more.

 

“If you give me the same report without fixing the damn errors again, I will go down to the fifth floor and fire you personally, Mr. Lee.” Jongin is seething. His head is pounding with a headache that has been lingering for the past three hours. The clock on his computer tells him that it’s past dinner time. The take out container on his desk has long gone cold. Jongin licks his lips as he eyes it. A little voice in his head tells him that Sehun would be very disappointed to learn that Jongin was about to skip not just one, but two meals.

Without delay, Sehun calls him, exactly at eight.

“I was going to heat up my food right now.”

Sehun lets out a surprised noise. “What?”

“My dinner. I’m going to eat now.” Jongin puts Sehun on speaker and unties the plastic bag handles. “Heading to the microwave now.”

The laugh from the other side of the phone sends tingles up Jongin’s back. “I wasn’t going to ask you about that, Jongin. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright, but it’s nice that you remembered to eat.”

 

\--

 

He lets the word slip from his lips on accident.

It hits hard.

The figure on top of him freezes and then jerks away. He scrambles to make amends, but how do you take back something you meant with your entire heart? The lingering warmth from Jongin’s skin sends a knife through Sehun’s heart. The bed is too big now. The door is wide open. Sehun is alone. Jongin is gone.

_As it should be._

 

Jongin didn’t think he would ever do this, yet there he was. It feels soft in his hand, and reminds him of the sweaters Sehun wears when it gets cold.

Sehun. God, Sehun.

Jongin had tried to pretend he didn’t hear the sound of muffled tears. Had tried to pretend that he, as always, was unbothered. Had tried to pretend that nothing was wrong when they met eyes at breakfast and Sehun had slid the mug of coffee, one part sugar, one part cream across the table and disappeared. Jongin is good at pretending. He does it so often it becomes second nature, and a blind eye is turned at any inconvenience. But he can’t pretend with Sehun anymore. Not when Sehun has too much to give and Jongin wants to take it all.

He can’t pretend that the word didn’t stir up something in him.

Sehun doesn’t greet him at the door that night, even when he messes up the code twice to give the younger some time. Jongin can’t help but feel disappointed, but his finger strokes against the fur in his pocket and he remembers that Sehun has a right to feel this way. It’s a feeling Jongin knows very well. Abandonment. Loneliness. Betrayal. Hurt.

Sehun is asleep on the couch, long limbs slung across soft cushions and buried under a blanket that hangs off the edge. Jongin feels the corner of his lips twitch. He fixes the blanket so it covers Sehun’s body, tucks the little stuffed bear under Sehun’s arm, and presses a soft kiss to Sehun’s forehead.

Tomorrow, amends will be made. Jongin will push aside his pride and maybe finally kiss Sehun like he should have this entire time.

 

Sehun wishes they did this since the beginning. He wishes Jongin was pliant in his arms all the time, not only when he was blissed out from sex or fuzzy from drinking too much. He wishes that it won’t have to come crashing down at one point or another because he feels Jongin’s movements tug at his heartstrings every moment of the day and he won’t know what will happen when Jongin will stop tugging because _he won’t be there to tug_. Sehun thinks too much about the future and how much he fears the end of five months from now.

He’ll be set for the rest of his life with the pay he’s getting, but will there be a life to live when Jongin isn’t there to enjoy it with him?

Jongin mouthing at his Adam’s apple pulls him away from his thoughts. He lets a soft groan escape and his arms tighten around Jongin’s body. For now, he’ll forget.

 

\--

 

It’s only when he flips his phone over at 9 PM that Jongin realizes that it’s at 5% battery and he’s missed three texts and two calls from Sehun in the past hour. Caught up in the frenzy of nearing the board meeting two days from now, Jongin had forgotten to charge his phone and pick up when Sehun usually calls. The texts are increasingly concerned and Jongin is quick to press the call button so he can reassure the younger that _yes, he’s alive_ and _yes, he ate dinner_.

Sehun sounds hysterical when he picks up. “I thought you ended up there again,” he sobs. “You didn’t pick up when I called you twice and I thought...I thought—”

“Sehun, I’m—”

“I thought you took the pills again,” Sehun whispers, voice shaky. “I thought you heard those voices again when I’ve been trying so hard to drive them away.”  
Jongin feels like the world’s been tilted on his axis. There was something in the way that Sehun seems so desperate to hold on that makes him feel like he’s actually _loved_. And with Sehun’s mention of the voices, Jongin realizes that he really hasn’t heard them in a long time. It’s like the sun is finally shining when it’s been dark for years.

“Jongin? Jongin, can you come home. I need— Jongin, I need you home. Please.”

Jongin reckons he’s found home in a slightly taller male with too long limbs and a heart big enough to sustain the both of them.

 

\--

 

There is a month left in their contract.

Jongin has almost forgotten there was one in the first place. It’s only when Sehun pats his chest pocket before work and looks at him with pleading eyes and whispers, “Can I take them?” that Jongin is reminded of exactly what their dynamic is.

Sehun has tried this on him once, months ago, after the first time Sehun saw him down two and slip into the bathroom to drown himself in hot steam and burning water. He had slapped Sehun hand from him then, and told him to know his boundaries, that even if he were hired to live here and be a bed warmer, he should know that their relationship doesn’t reach any further than that. Sehun had slept on the couch that night and stayed silent for a week until Jongin had dragged him into his room and kissed the air out of his lungs.

That time seems so far away.

Jongin blinks slowly, jaw tensing as he glares at the silver packaging and innocent white pills between Sehun’s digits. He’s not sure which offends him more.  
“Jongin?” Sehun lets desperation slip into his tone as a last ditch effort to persuade Jongin to agree. “You don’t need these anymore right?”

Suddenly, Jongin’s throat feels dry and there’s an itching there that won’t go away when he begins to scratch.

“Jongin.” The two syllables feel firmer than the hand that wraps around Jongin’s fingers to stop him from hurting himself even more than the raised lines already forming on thin skin. “Can you answer me?”

“I need them,” Jongin says in a rush. He lets out a quick puff of air from his nose and clenches his jaw. “It’s not that easy, Sehun.”

Sehun looks pained, but he puts the pills back into Jongin’s pocket and presses a hand there. The bulge in the breast pocket presses against Jongin’s pounding heart. “Have a good day at work. Remember to eat.” He pulls away before Jongin can kiss him. It might be more wet than intended because tears are about to slip down Sehun’s cheeks any second now from the disappointment and sheer humiliation of thinking anything has changed between them.

Jongin doesn’t pull him back and it hurts even more. The click of the bathroom door signals the literal wall that separates them now. Sehun should have known that it’s easier to slip between the cracks and take what’s given to him than try to break down walls to get to the treasure. Everything about Jongin was too fragile yet too intransigent. Sehun’s impulsiveness will bring nothing but pain to himself.

He leaves the bathroom only when he hears Jongin depart for work. He shuffles into the bedroom, ready to slip into bed and lay there to wallow in his own tears.  
There’s a small capsule on his pillow.

 

Sehun gets the phone call during lunch with Jongin on Sunday. The familiar voice of Mr. Park and his forever formal way of reminding Sehun about his jobs will always tick Sehun off to no end. But today feels worse because his job is sitting before him, chewing slowly on his sweet and sour pork like he hasn’t put Sehun in the worst position possible.

“December 31, 2018. We’ve already received Mr. Kim’s payment and it will be sent to you the moment the new year starts. Remember to erase all your traces, per his orders. You’ve done similar missions before, this one is no different. Good day, Oh Sehun.”

It was not a good day. Sehun no longer wants to eat. In fact, he feels the opposite, like all the food he’s ingested is about to come right back up again.  
“Sehun?” Sehun puts his fork back onto the plate with more force than he intended, causing Jongin to frown. “Hey, what’s wrong? You’re shaking. Who called you?”  
Sehun flips his phone so it’s facedown and wrings his hands in his lap. He feels so sick. The churning in his stomach won’t go away. The pounding of blood in his ears just gets louder and louder. “I—”

Jongin puts his fork down too, much softer than Sehun did, and looks expectantly into Sehun’s eyes. The sparkle in the familiar brown eyes is new to him, and Sehun can’t believe that he realizes it now after such a brutal reminder. The tears well up before he can stop them, and Sehun curses himself for going soft, for letting this affect him so much.

“Sehun, what’s wrong?”

He sees the last few months fly by in his eyes. He feels Jongin’s arms holding him closer, Jongin’s hands cradling his warmer, Jongin’s lips kissing him softer. He hears Jongin’s voice whisper his name into his ear when they’re pressed against each other so close they don’t know where one ends and the other begins. Sehun doesn’t know what to do with it all. Was this what he signed up for?

Fuck no, it wasn’t.

“Do you love me?”

Jongin goes slack jawed, eyes hardening and then softening in a split second. It’s enough to answer his question though. What did he expect?

Sehun pushes his chair back. It screeches against the hardwood floor and makes him flinch. “Sorry, I’m not— I have to go out. I can’t—”

“Sehun, wait, no—”

Sehun is on his feet and already slipping on his shoes before Jongin can finish his thought. He vaguely realizes that his phone is still on the table when Jongin is pulling him back and slamming the barely ajar door closed with his fist.

“Fuck, Sehun,” Jongin pants. He sounds so strained, like he’s run a marathon to pull Sehun back. “Fuck, yes. God, yes.”

 

He’s one step closer to being done, but at what price? Jongin’s body on his should be a distraction, but all Sehun can think about is how he’ll walk away to let the pieced together work of art fall off the edge again. How the man who smiles against his lips when they kiss will do nothing but drink and smoke and take those goddamn pills until he can’t anymore.

 

\--

 

Jongin no longer brings the single use capsule to work anymore. The one in his car has been taken by Sehun. The one in the nightstand is gone too. They’re all in the bathroom cabinet now, right behind the mirror. Sometimes, Jongin goes in to stare at the person looking back at him and remember that the pills are within arms reach. He just has to reach out, touch fingers with his reflection, and they’ll be there. When the urge to fall back on those little pills hits him hard, especially after a few good shots of the brandy stashed in his kitchen where Sehun can’t find, Jongin presses his hand against the surface just to see someone holding him back. Even if that person wasn’t real, even if that person was just as lonely and broken as he was, even if that person was so close to tipping over, Jongin had someone that held his hand, and unrelentingly told him to stay away. But when Sehun wiggles his way into the bathroom to stand behind him, Jongin sees that his reflection is real, that his reflection isn’t lonely and as broken as he thinks, and that he wasn’t holding on by a fraying rope anymore.

 

There is a week left.

Jongin doesn’t seem to remember what the beginning of 2019 entails. Sehun can’t seem to forget it.

Jongin sleeps soundly, soft snores resonating in the quiet room. Sehun stays up late, ruminating on any loophole that he can find in the system so he won’t have to walk away.

Jongin has all the power to end it with the snap of his fingers. Sehun has to live his life with the crushing thought that he’s lost the love of his life.

Jongin smiles at him when he wakes, soft and baring everything he has for Sehun to love. Sehun loves all he can and regrets just as much.

The pair of jeans he wore the first day to Jongin’s place hangs in the closet, little white paper peeking out as if to mock him. He wishes to burn it all.

 

When the clock reads 11:30, Jongin turns off his computer and leaves his office. He wants to make it back before midnight. It’ll be a nice surprise. Maybe he’ll convince Sehun to drink with him. Maybe they’ll watch the New Year’s parade on TV in each other’s arms. Maybe Sehun will sing to him.  
The office is empty. Everyone left hours ago to attend the new year’s party that Jongin didn’t bother attending. He drives himself home, weaving through the crowds of people littering the streets.

The elevator ride up to his penthouse is awkward. Jongin meets eyes with too many people that he doesn’t recognize, though they all say hello and wish him well. Jongin is in a good mood, buzzing with anticipation to see Sehun. He has a niggling feeling he has forgotten something, but he can’t put a finger on it. Jongin has to punch in all the numbers to the passcode since Sehun doesn’t open it for him. The apartment is quiet, something Jongin is both used to and unfamiliar with. He ventures into his room and finds Sehun’s face in his hands with clothes strewn across the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jongin’s voice is too loud.

Sehun’s hand jerks away from his face and he stares at Jongin with red eyes and dried tear tracks. “Fuck, Jongin you weren’t supposed to be here.” He pulls at his hair and lets out a small whimper. “Fuck. You were supposed to be at work, _why are you here_?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he says, like it’s an obvious answer. “Sehun, what are you doing?” he repeats. Jongin racks his brain for an answer but the voices that were buried deep creeping back out to taunt and yell and rip apart his sanity. _You don’t matter. He’s finally done with your bullshittery and leaving._ “Sehun, what the fuck are you doing!” he roars.

“I was supposed to leave!” Sehun pulls out their contract, folded perfectly into eights with crisp edges. “Remember this, Jongin? Remember when you wrote it all out for me as clear as day? ‘Be my friend. Convince me that I’m loved and then leave so I can finally get the motivation to leave this fucking earth.’” Jongin’s lips purse into a thin line when the words hit. Sehun has fresh tears glistening in his eyes as he continues. “Somewhere along the way, I forgot about it. And then Mister-Fucking-Park calls me and reminds me that I have to be out before you come home. Jongin, home. _Home_.” Sehun’s voice cracks and he’s back to being a sobbing mess. “How am I supposed to leave, Jongin? How am I supposed to leave home? Leave you?”

Jongin feels his heart pounding. The voices are loud in his ears, bleeding into eyes and turning everything into a blurry mess of colors, seeping into his pores like poison to end him slowly but surely. He feels the overwhelming urge to rush to the bathroom right now and take those pills. The three bottles that are there, waiting to be consumed. Waiting for him to carry out the inevitable. Waiting for him to adhere to the contract.

But when his eyes refocus and he sees Sehun crying, sees Sehun is just as broken and hurt about this as he is, Jongin doesn’t feel that urge anymore. Everything he’s built comes crashing down. He’s naked and bare. Sehun has his heart in his hand.

“Then don’t.”


End file.
